


If I'm Not A Star, Then What Am I?

by shevines



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fallen Castiel, Fluff and Angst, M/M, that seems to fit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 13:43:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shevines/pseuds/shevines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is having a bit of an inner struggle after the whole "falling" thing. Dean's worried for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I'm Not A Star, Then What Am I?

Cas huffs out a breath against the glass and traces his finger over it. He can feel the weight of Dean's eyes on his back, like they're drilling a hole through his body.

When Cas pulls his hand away, Dean walks over and peers over his shoulder. A tiny galaxy constructed perfectly on the glass. Dean doesn’t say anything. He walks four feet to the bed but doesn’t sit on it.

“This is me,” Cas says, pointing to a minuscule sphere on the glass. “It's what I used to be.”

Cas doesn’t turn around, just stares at the glass. He sits and watches as his galaxy fades away. First at the edges, turning inward, swallowing itself whole. Dean still doesn’t say anything. The galaxy's gone.

“I don’t know how to be anything anymore.” He turns his face away from the window. The room is cold. “I used to be a star, and I was important, and it was all that I knew. Now I'm not a star. If I'm not a star, what am I? I don’t know how to be anything else.” Cas doesn’t look at Dean. He listens to him breathe.

Dean inhales and exhales, inhales and exhales. His silence is loud. It rings in Cas's ears.

Cas closes his eyes. Doesn't want to see anything. Nothing ever again, please. “I am scared sometimes,” he says.

Dean doesn’t say anything. Cas keeps his eyes closed.

“I am losing myself.”

He's still standing next to the window pane. He clenches and unclenches his fists. Thinks of words. He says them over and over in his head because he doesn’t know what else to do and he's scared and he doesn’t want to lose himself.

“Please tell me how to make things okay.” Dean’s voice is quiet, far away, frozen. Winter.

There's no answer to that. Cas fills the empty space with different words instead. “You have one-hundred and seventy-two freckles on your body.” Dean is quiet again. “Each one is a piece to a puzzle that I created. A Dean puzzle.”

There's a pause, a loud one, a heavy one and then a “Cas” muttered very quietly. Dean still doesn’t move, still. Cas keeps his eyes closed, wants heat, wants to pray for it, can't remember how to pray for it. “I gave it up for you. I would do it a million times over.”

There's a sound, a shuffling, Dean moving his weight from one foot to the other. He takes a step and Cas can hear his heartbeat. It’s a rhythm that he's familiar with- Cas likes to listen to it. Sometimes it gets stuck in his head like songs get stuck in other people’s heads.

Cas says, “Sometimes I feel like digging a hole into the center of the Earth and never coming out."

Another step, closer, still too far. “I know you hurt sometimes,” Dean says, and then clears his throat. “I know that sometimes you forget things that you want to remember, and that you remember things you want to forget.”

Now Dean's behind him. His breath is warm and tickles the hairs on the back of Cas's neck.

Cas opens his eyes. He doesn’t turn around, but he leans his weight against Dean’s chest. Cas can feel the heat rolling off of Dean and into his own skin. Cas is tired, doesn't want to move, doesn't want to be here anymore. He wants Dean to absorb him, to make Cas a part of him. He wants Dean to show him how to be something else.

“If I am not a star,” Cas says, quietly, barely, “then what am I?”


End file.
